by Orel Protopopescu

(After “We Kiss in a Shadow,” Rogers and Hammerstein)

We meet on the sidelines.
We hide from the press.
Our meetings are few,
but more might be less.

We speak in a whisper
afraid of the spies
on your side and mine,
so make love with our eyes.

Alone with our secrets,
we barely touch hands—
mine small, but they still hold big keys.

Who locked up the future
for your sake and mine,
as temperatures rose by degrees?
Come rise, Vlad, on towers of sleaze!

by Marshall Cobb

“New pot shop’s neighbors say traffic jams are awful”
—The Boston Globe

If you run a store that peddles pot,
You’ll need a bigger parking lot.
It seems the high demand for grass
Is causing traffic jams in Mass.,
And those who live close by the store
Are more than just a little sore.
Here’s my advice to those fine folk:
Just join the crowd and have a smoke.

by Julia Griffin

“Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell says ‘some kind of response’ is needed from the United States for the Saudis’ role in [Khashoggi’s] gruesome death”—AP

Mitch McConnell from Kentucky,
Where they make the bourbon strong,
Isn’t scared of acting plucky
When he spies a moral wrong.
Thus when poor Jamal Khashoggi
Met his end in Istanbul,
Finding Trump’s reaction soggy,
Mitch spoke up, and roared, in full:
“Some kind of response to that certainly would be in order and we’re discussing what the appropriate response would be.”

Mitch McConnell of the Senate,
Foe to taxes, friend of guns,
Holds dismemberment a tenet
That he absolutely shuns.
Thus when that superb Wahhabi
Known for short as MbS
Made excuses somewhat flabby,
Mitch proclaimed to all the Press:
“I think almost no one believes we should completely and totally fracture our relationship with the Saudis, but, yes, some kind of response is going to be appropriate and we’re going to continue to talk about that.”

by Barbara Loots

“Early in its history, Mars may have looked a lot like Earth. …
But the last 3 billion years have been a slow-motion disaster…”
—The Washington Post

Though Mars is a wasteland of dust,
There’s no sense in making a fuss.
Slow-motion disaster
Will never go faster
And nothing will happen to us.

We seem to have frequenter bouts
With hurricanes, blizzards, and droughts.
But weather is iffy,
Can change in a jiffy,
And science is nothing but doubts.

Forget about climate-change fears.
Our planet is fine, it appears.
So no one need worry
Or be in a hurry.
We’ve still got three billion more years.

by Julia Griffin

“Renoir Estimated at $180,000 Is Stolen From Austrian Auction House”—The New York Times 

Who saw, who saw, the small Renoir
Snatched from the auction house ce soir?
The forms were signed, the t’s were crossed,
The auctioneers were toasting Prost!
Now everybody’s mood is noir.

Did some gendarme (affreux à croire!)
Slope off for quelque chose à boire?
There is no way this can be glossed.
Who saw, who saw?

Someone has failed in their devoir,
And lost the house a deal of gloire,
At serious financial cost;
Besides, of course, the painting’s lost,
And like Renoir, that maître d’art,
Who saw, who saw?